


Whumptober 2019

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Sherlock (TV), Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, Blood and Injury, District 4, Episode: s01e49 Jailbreak, F/F, F/M, Fever, First Kiss, Ford Pines Needs a Hug, Gen, Hunger Games, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Memory Erasing Gun, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Past Torture, Post-Weirdmageddon, Protective Ruby, Reunions, Sherlock Holmes Returns after Reichenbach, Trauma, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-20 03:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20668793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A collection of one-shots based off the Whumptober 2019 prompts.1. shaky hands2. explosion3. delirium4. dehydration5. gunpoint6. lost





	1. shaky hands//gravity falls

**Author's Note:**

> just getting an early start on whumptober, don't mind me!
> 
> however, this is the first time i've ever done this specific challenge, and i'm not quite sure what is classified as whump (i assume it's a ymmv type thing) so don't @ me if this isn't whumpy enough for you.

His hands were shaking. He tried to ignore it, going about his day like everything was normal, because if he didn’t he would start thinking about _why _they were shaking and that was something he was desperate not to do.

_“Well, well, well. Fordsy, you’re tougher than I thought!” Bill laughed, one hand already crackling with electricity. “That’s not saying much, though, you always were SOFT!” His voice dropped on the last word, and he thrust his hand forward, lightning arcing through Ford’s body._

Ford sucked in a breath, grounding himself in the present. He wasn’t back there in the Fearamid, being tortured by Cipher, he was on the ocean with his brother and Bill was dead.

“Hey, Ford, you want breakfast?” Stan called from the galley.

His brother’s nonchalant tone comforted Ford and he shouted back an affirmative, already heading for the stairs. He did still shove his hands in his pockets.

_“…not enough to stop your heart?” _

_Ford fought his way back to consciousness in time to hear the tail end of Bill’s sentence. He wondered if he was the last one still alive, if Bill was torturing him simply because he had no one else left. _

_“Doesn’t matter,” Bill said with something that might have been a shrug if he’d had shoulders. “If it does, I can just start it again!” _

_That terrified Ford. Was he going to be caught in this loop forever, this endless torment with a demon he had thought was his friend? He moaned, noticing how much he was trembling. He’d sold his soul to the devil, and now he was paying for it._

“Hey, you okay, bro?”

Ford looked up. “I’m fine,” he answered quickly. He picked at the eggs Stan had made, trying his best not to let any of them fall off the fork.

“Right,” Stan agreed with a nod. “I just, well, I looked at the calendar today.”

“And?” Ford prompted, putting his fork down before he dropped it.

“It’s been three months since…” Stan trailed off. “Since, you know.”

Ford did know. Three months since Weirdmageddon. The Oddpocalypse, as some called it. The end of the world, the destruction of reality, the end of time. Three months since he’d almost doomed the world.

“So?” he asked, sharper than he meant to, clenching his hands together under the table. He could feel them still trembling and he hoped it wouldn’t last for much longer. He could feel something building in his chest, leftover fear and pain from his experience with Bill, and he didn’t see how this conversation would help. “What’s your point?”

“What happened?” Stan asked. “I was holed up in the Mystery Shack trying to survive, but what happened to you?”

Ford flinched. He had never told Stan, and he’d hoped it would stay that way. There were some things no one needed to know, burdens that no one else needed to carry. “Stanley,” he began.

“No.” His twin’s voice was icy when he cut Ford off. “Don’t do this to me, Ford.”

“Do what?” Ford asked, unsure what Stan was accusing him of. The shaking in his hands was unabated and a tiny corner of his brain wondered if it would be there permanently, a sign of Bill’s control over him, even now.

“You – you act like I shouldn’t know!” Stan exclaimed. “Like it’s too much and I’m too fragile, and…” He trailed off again, sitting back in his chair.

Ford understood then. Stan was feeling pitied. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just – there are things _no one _should know about.”

Stan sighed, looking Ford in the eye. “How come you’re different? How come you get put on a pedestal to bear the burdens of the world but no one gets to help you? What makes you so special?”

Special. That was what Bill had said. Whenever Ford had asked why he was the one Bill chose, that’s what the triangle had said.

_“You’re special, Sixer! One in a million!” _

_“I haven’t chosen that many people. You _should _feel special!” _

_“I’m your muse! You’re going to achieve great things with me!”_

And Bill had fooled him. It hadn’t even taken much, just a stream of flattery and fancy words until Ford was ready to do anything for his muse. It sickened him. Bill had managed to turn him against everyone in his life until Ford had felt the only trustworthy person in his life was a demon.

It was time to stop.

Ford sighed. “You’re right. I haven’t told you the full story.” Slowly, trying to find the right words to quell the fear he felt, he laid out most of what happened in the days between Bill’s takeover and defeat.

Stan listened quietly, saying very little until Ford got to the part where Bill had gotten tired of Ford’s constant refusals.

_“I’m impressed,” Bill finally declared, looking Ford over like a work of art. “He still won’t crack!” _

_Ford struggled to breathe though the blood running down his face. He wouldn’t die; Bill wouldn’t allow it until he had what he wanted. Part of him wanted to laugh. The one thing he would beg Bill for was the one thing the demon wouldn’t give him. _

_“So, Sixer, what do you say?” _

_Ford lifted his head to look Bill in the eye. “Fuck off,” he snarled. _

_It was the last thing he said for a very long time. _

“I don’t know exactly what occurred between then and shortly before you launched your rescue mission,” Ford said slowly. “I do suspect, however, that Bill left behind some… souvenirs.”

“What does that mean?” Stan demanded.

Ford laid his hands on the table, explaining his theory about the nerve damage Bill did, possibly permanent.

“Don’t worry,” Stan declared when he was done cursing Bill out in every language he knew. “We’ll stop at the first decent doctor we find and fix this. Together.”

Ford let out a deep breath, the weight in his chest already lifted. “Together,” he agreed.


	2. explosion//steven universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a slightly whumpier version of ruby and sapphire's reunion in the episode "Jailbreak" or maybe just a tiny character study of ruby? I'm not really sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these are turning out to be super tangentially connected to the prompts...oh well... as Harry Potter once said, "I tried and therefore no one should criticize me!"

The last thing Garnet remembered was blinding pain as Jasper’s destabilizer slammed into her. A muffled explosion sounded and then she heard nothing.

Ruby woke up in a cell. Alone. _Where’s Sapphire? _She ran her hand over her gem frantically. _I’m fine, where’s Sapphire!? _She tried to remember and think back to what happened before the Homeworld ship had landed. _Jasper had a weapon, something I’ve never seen before. _She knew that she had escaped with Sapphire before the start of the rebellion and what Rose Quartz called Era 2, but she’d never really thought about what that meant for Homeworld in terms of technology and production.

_I need to find Sapphire! _Ruby looked around her cell and saw the hallway outside lit by a yellow shine. _There! I can get out there. _Rushing towards the hall, Ruby fully intended to break out and track down Sapphire before getting out of this ship by any means necessary. She hit the wall of yellow light running.

Ruby materialized slowly sitting on the floor of the cell. Her head was still aching from the…forcefield she had run into. Cursing Homeworld and all the Diamonds, she stood up slowly. _I can’t get out of here, _she realized. Whatever Jasper had used to break Garnet apart was built into her cell. _What if I never see Sapphire again? _Ruby growled, her right hand bursting into flame. _No! _She would not even entertain that idea. She and Sapphire hadn’t gone through centuries of war and separation from everything they considered home to be torn apart by a single explosion. Ruby stifled the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes, her flame smoldering out. She could still feel the echoes of Garnet’s fear and panic when Jasper had attacked, the fusion trying desperately to hold herself together as she was forced apart, Sapphire and Ruby’s forms being dispelled even as they reached for each other.

_Did Sapphire see it coming? Did Garnet? _Even if they had, Ruby hadn’t been able to stop it, to protect the gem she loved. _What am I even good for? _Ruby berated herself, pacing back and forth in her cell. She was made to be a soldier, created for the sole purpose of guarding her superiors and throwing herself into danger for them. If she couldn’t do that, what good was she? She had emerged knowing her purpose, like any Ruby, was to prevent anything from hurting the gems she protected. _And I failed. _Because of her, Sapphire was probably sitting in a cell on the ship just like this one, wondering where Ruby was and if she was even coming. _A lot of good I am, just sitting here useless! _

She curled up against the wall with a groan. _I failed; I can’t do anything useful; I couldn’t help Sapphire, and even with Garnet, I just – I just failed!_

Outside the cell, there was the sound of shuffling footsteps and then, “Hello? Are you okay?” a small voice asked uncertainly.

Ruby looked at Steven. _He’s here! Why is he here! I can’t even help him stuck in here! _“Great!” she shouted, slamming her fist against the wall. “This is just perfect!”

“Uh, do you need any help?” Steven asked.

“No!” Ruby snapped instinctually. “I mean – don’t look at me! Just go away!” _I’m trapped! _The panic she had been feeling ever since she woke up began to grow. She was trapped in here, so was Sapphire probably, while Steven was walking around in a Homeworld ship. “Hey, wait!” she shouted, jumping to her feet. “You’re out! How did you get past the field?”

“Oh, I just kind of – “ Steven started to explain, reaching towards the barrier of light.

“Wait! No no no no no wait!” If running into that had made her destabilize, she didn’t want to know what it could do to a half-human like Steven.

Before she could do anything, Steven smiled at her and stuck his hand through the forcefield. It parted around his hand like it was – like it was light.

“It’s okay?” Ruby wondered out loud. _What’s going on? _She reached towards the wall of light, careful not to get too close. Just like she suspected, it nearly destabilized her hand. “Ow! What’s going on?” she snapped. Nothing was making sense! _Where’s Sapphire? _

Familiar singing floated down the hallway. “Sapphire!” Ruby whispered to herself. _She’s okay! _Ruby realized, the rush of relief making her slightly light-headed. “Let me out of here!” Ruby demanded. “Please! I need to find Sapphire!”

Steven stepped fully into the forcefield, chattering about friends and finding them. He didn’t recognize Ruby, and she didn’t expect him to, but she still thanked Rose for Steven’s kind nature. They raced down the halls, Ruby trying frantically to see where Sapphire’s singing was coming from. “I can’t see!” Ruby complained, wishing more than ever for Garnet and Sapphire’s Sight.

They rushed past cell after empty cell until they finally found one with a gem in it. Ruby gasped, before recognizing the gem. “Oh, it’s just you,” she snapped.

“Lapis, I can get you out,” Steven offered.

Ruby clutched her head as the two argued, Lapis determined to stay in her cell and head back to Homeworld. _I don’t care what they do with the little traitor! _Ruby thought angrily. _I need to find Sapphire! _She could still hear the singing, but with Jasper on the ship, she didn’t know how much longer it would last. “I don’t have time for this!” she shouted, racing back the way she’d come, leaving Steven alone. It probably wasn’t a good choice, but Sapphire took precedence right now.

Ruby wandered the halls of the ship, trying to find her way towards Sapphire’s voice. She stopped in a doorway as she realized she couldn’t hear singing. “Sapphire!” she screamed, barely caring if she brought Jasper down on her head.

“Ruby!” Sapphire paused in the opposite doorway before they rushed to meet each other.

The hug was the most comforting thing Ruby could remember feeling in a very long time. “Did they hurt you?” she asked, pulling far enough away to see Sapphire’s face.

“No, no, I’m okay,” Sapphire reassured her. “Did they hurt you?”

Ruby laughed, pent-up tears running down her face. “Who cares?” she exclaimed, overjoyed at seeing Sapphire again. All of her fear evaporated in the face of her being able to hold Sapphire again, the two of them back where they belonged, together.

“I do!” Sapphire kissed Ruby’s tears away.

Still laughing, Ruby picked Sapphire up and swung her around, all of her joy and relief poured into it. She and Sapphire pressed their gems closer and closer, and melted together.

Garnet opened her eyes laughing.


	3. delirium//sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, a chapter that features the prompt! Anyway, it's a Sherlock returns fic WAY after those were the cool thing to do, featuring a sick Sherlock and a caring John. Also, no fainting or punching, just a small kiss

“John! _John_!”

The echoes of Sherlock’s voice faded as John woke up to rain pounding against the window. He scoffed to himself, sitting up further in his chair. “Get over yourself,” he muttered. “He isn’t here.” _And he’ll never be here again, _his mind finished the sentence.

It was ridiculous, really. Sherlock had fallen – _jumped _– to his death and John had seen it. Had checked the detective’s pulse himself. There was absolutely no way Sherlock wasn’t dead. John swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to stand and head for the kitchen. Tea was the best solution when he was in this state of mind.

Filling the kettle and taking a mug out of the cupboard, John barely heard the knock on the door over the thunder outside. “No one in their right mind would be out there in this weather,” he muttered to himself, heading for the stairs.

The man on the front step was completely drenched, rain plastering his dark hair to his face. John squinted, trying to make out his face in the dim light of the streetlamp. “Come in,” he said after a moment, standing to one side.

The man stumbled inside. “Thank you,” he rasped.

John looked him over with a doctor’s eye. It looked like he was suffering from a fever at the very least. “What’s your name?” he asked, leading the man upstairs.

There was a long pause before the man finally answered. “William.”

John racked his brain trying to remember if Sherlock had ever mentioned a ‘William’ in his homeless network._ Probably_, he eventually concluded. Ushering the man to the couch, he waited until William was sitting before heading back into the kitchen.

The kettle had just come to a boil and John got another mug from the cupboard and set a teabag inside. Too late, he realized it was the mug Sherlock used on the rare occasions he drank tea. John thought briefly about finding a new one, before remembering most of the mugs had been packed away. _It doesn’t matter, _he reminded himself, _it’s not like he’s coming back to use it. _

John carried the tea into the living room, putting one mug on the table close to where William had stretched out on the couch. His eyes were closed, either in sleep or unconsciousness. John settled into his chair, waiting for the man to wake up.

Two hours later, John was woken up from his doze by William muttering in several different languages. “No, don’t….nemoj go povrediti….ne znam….don’t hurt….” Turning over, he made eye contact with John. “Help,” he whispered, eyes glassy with fever.

Like most things in the flat, John had never moved the first aid kit and it took only a couple of minutes before he had it out and open beside the couch. William’s temperature was high but not dangerous and John started easing him out of one of the two sweaters he had on.

This close, John could see how much William looked like Sherlock. _Stop, _he scolded himself. _He’s dead. _There was no point in looking for ghosts behind every corner or hoping for miracles where there were none. John looked William over again, this time forcing himself to catalogue every difference between him and Sherlock. _His hair is longer, he’s skinnier than Sherlock. It’s just a passing resemblance. _Placing the discarded sweater on the floor, he got out a cold compress and placed it on William’s forehead, before heading to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Watching the glass fill up with water, John took a deep breath. It was hard to forget the words he’d spoken at Sherlock’s grave. _Don’t be dead. _Another clap of thunder boomed overhead and John jumped. _Stop it, _he scolded himself for the thousandth time that night, shutting off the water and walking back to the living room. _Not even Sherlock Holmes could come back from the dead. _He tried to forget the “_oh, really?_” expression Sherlock liked to wear.

William was muttering in what sounded like Russian when John came back with the water and a paracetamol pill. Convincing the man to take the drug reminded John strongly of trying to get Sherlock to eat when he didn’t want to. _I wonder what he would think of me now, _he thought sardonically. _He did always want me to adventure more. _

Not wanting to leave a stranger on his couch alone, John settled into his chair to sleep for the night. His sleep was full of Sherlock – the detective’s smile, his sharp laugh, the way he could learn anything about anyone but emotional displays left him baffled. The sound of him saying _John _over and over again was what accompanied him back into the real world.

“John. _John._” On the couch, William mumbled the name, looking around frantically. It looked like his fever had mostly broken and his eyes were clear.

_I wonder who he’s thinking about? _John stood up, stretching the stiffness out of his limbs. Kneeling beside the couch, he prepared to take William’s temperature again. “Hold still,” he murmured.

Catching his wrist in surprisingly strong grip, William stared straight into his eyes. “John,” he whispered.

There was only ever one person who had said his name like that. Reaching out with his other hand, John brushed too-long hair away from a too-thin face. “Sherlock?”

“Not dead,” his best friend said with a chuckle.

John exhaled, trying to hold back tears. “You showed up on my doorstep in the middle of a rainstorm!” Sucking in a breath, he blinked frantically. “Jesus, Sherlock, _why?_”

Letting go of John’s wrist, Sherlock looked away. “It’s a long story,” he said haltingly. “I had to make it seem real.”

“Real?” John shouted, standing up abruptly. “Oh, it was bloody _real _all right!” Ignoring his tears, he focused on Sherlock. “I thought – I thought you were _dead_.”

“Yes,” Sherlock admitted, standing up. “I – I’m truly sorry.”

John wiped his eyes. “You’re back,” he whispered. No matter how many times he said it, he suspected he’d never get tired of it. Sherlock was back, he wasn’t dead, he was standing right where he used to in his flat. Closing the distance between the two of them, he engulfed Sherlock in a hug. “You’re so thin. What have you been eating?”

Sherlock hesitated and John read _not much, not enough, nothing really, _into the pause.

“Never mind,” he said into Sherlock’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter now.”

_“_John,” Sherlock said, “I feel you should know something.”

“What is it?” John wondered, taking a step back and looking Sherlock in the face. Part of him hoped it was the same thing he wanted to tell Sherlock, had wanted to tell the detective before and had never gotten the chance to.

Lifting his hands to John’s face, Sherlock stared into the soldier’s eyes. “This,” he murmured, leaning forward to press their lips together.

There were many things to discuss, but as John stepped back into Sherlock’s embrace and opened his mouth he figured this was enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The language Sherlock is speaking is Serbian. I used google translate and it should mean "don't hurt him...I don't know"


	4. dehydration//hunger games

Mags was born in District Four with salt water in her veins. Her eyes were the colour of the ocean, prone to shifting shades, and her parents knew she was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because she was theirs and they would love her more than anything in the world; a curse because the Capitol would never allow them such happiness for long and so they readied themselves for the day she would disappear forever.

As a child, Mags learned how to swim before she could walk. She would lay for hours in the tide pools, feeling the waves against her sun-brown skin as sure as her own heartbeat. The ocean would never leave her; water was her element just as much as if she had been born a mermaid. She told her secrets to the wind and waves and never expected them back, for what is given to the ocean is given freely.

She grew older and the Games grew nearer. More of her neighbours and playmates left, never to return. When the boy Mags thought was handsome was taken away by the Capitol she ran to the sea and swam until she felt like her lungs would burst. When the girl Mags shared her first kiss with was stolen, only to return in a coffin, she whispered her sorrow to the rocks and wind, letting them carry it away until she felt light as sea foam. The threat of the Games was always looming on the horizon and Mags feared it like others feared the deep sea and what lay within.

Mags was sixteen when the Capitol came for her. She was loaded onto a metal train and whisked away from her home, her family, her ocean. She arrived in a place where she couldn’t feel the salt air against her skin, couldn’t hear the lonely cry of the birds, couldn’t bury her hands in the sand and feel its warmth. She drank as much water as she was allowed, but the filtered Capitol water couldn’t fill her stomach or soothe the ache in her throat.

Her arena was even worse. A deserted plain with scraggly trees and scrub for cover, the place was dry. Mags felt hopelessly alone without the comfort of her sea. She escaped the bloodbath by running and hiding in a hollow. She hid all day and night, imagining the rhythm in her heart to be the waves beating endlessly against the shoreline. The tears that dripped down her cheeks tasted like the salt of the ocean, and she whispered prayers to every god she knew that she might be allowed to return home. No answer sounded, except for the constant thud of her heart, but she knew what she needed to do. She retreated into herself, gathered her strength deep inside like the ocean before a tempest strikes, and readied herself for what she needed to do.

The sun rose, bathing the arena in blazing golden light. Mags left her hollow and followed the sound of human voices to where four of the strongest tributes were gathered, gloating over their kills and the loot they had stolen. She stole one of their unguarded weapons and plunged it into the back of the boy from District One. The gleam of the blade almost looked like the shimmer of the sunlight on the sea. The fallen boy’s district partner jumped forward, but Mags cut her open as easily as slicing a fish’s belly to clean it. Before long, all four were dead and Mags was running again, her eyes dark as a winter storm.

The Games lasted one more day before Mags was declared the winner. She was the first Victor from District Four, and she was given a hero’s welcome. There were celebrations on the beach that lasted long into the night, soft firelight flickering over the sand and sea. She drank her fill and it tasted like home, reminded her of where she belonged. The ocean may travel far, her mother had told her once, but it will always return, and Mags knew it was true. She would never trust the Capitol or its people but she no longer feared them, for she knew she would always be stronger than them.

Mags had been born with the sea in her blood, had fought through a dry, empty land to return to it, and in that moment she made a promise to herself that she would never give it up again.


	5. gunpoint//gravity falls

Dipper never forgets the feeling of the memory gun. Holding the cold metal in his hands, pointing it at Ford, _pulling the trigger; _all of these things are memories that never leave him, no matter how much he tries.

Mabel is haunted by nightmares of her bubble. It’s two months after they come home before she can listen to her favorite synth bands again, and her art takes a darker turn for a while. She takes down her boy band posters and replaces them with forest landscapes. But the exerience doesn’t scar her – only wounds.

Dipper can’t forget. His nightmares start in Ford’s secret lab and end with his great-uncle staring at him, unsure of who or where he is. It’s something Dipper saw once. He’s terrified it will happen again.

After a while, he starts learning how to meditate. He asks Ford to teach him how; not the meditations passed down from Bill, but other ones that Ford learned on his travels from beings such as Jheselbraum. Dipper learns how to take his fears, isolate them, drop them beneath the ocean of his consciousness. It’s a method that Ford assures him is used reliably across the galaxy.

It does work, for a time. Dipper can sleep easier and he starts to talk to Mabel more. With Ford’s blessing (and he would have told her regardless) he tells his twin about all the secrets his great-uncle asked him to keep. He explains the little things like the infinity die and the world-endingly large things like the dimensional rift. Mabel confesses things to him too and explains how Bill lied to and manipulated her. Mabel and Dipper learn to move on and recover, both together and with the rest of their family.

But there are some times where Dipper’s sunken memories resurface. It’s always in his dreams. Standing deep underground, surrounded by images of Bill, trying to defend himself against an enemy that he knows now existed only in his head.

_Unless_, he wonders_, it didn’t_. Long after awakening, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, Dipper will stare at the ceiling and force himself to answer the question: if Ford _had _been possessed, would he have fired?

The answer is always yes.

No matter how many times Dipper turns it over in his head, reviews the evidence like the scientist he is, remembers Stan looking around helplessly in the clearing after Weirdmageddon, he always answers yes.

He hates himself for it, and it’s the one thing he’ll never fully confess to Mabel. It scares him a little, the knowledge that he could hold a family member at gunpoint and pull the trigger.


	6. lost//percy jackson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why does my whump turn out way too full of fluff? ugh, whatever.

It had happened at the dinner table. Sally had stood up to get dessert and Paul had reached out for her wrist to remind her of something inconsequential. When his hand closed around her arm, both Percy and Sally whipped around to stare at him. Percy’s hand went to his pocket, and Sally pulled away immediately.

No one had said anything, but the mood had immediately been dampened. Percy had eaten dessert and then excused himself stiffly. He hugged Sally tightly and whispered something in her ear before heading out to the balcony and whistling loudly.

“I’m sorry,” Paul said eventually.

“I won’t tell you it’s okay,” Sally replied, finishing her dessert, “but I know what you mean.”

“I – will Percy be all right?” Years of being a teacher had taught Paul what to look for in body language and how to handle it.

Sally pushed her plate to the side and folded her hands on the table. Her forearm was turned towards Paul and he could see a faint spot of shiny pink skin. “I’ve told you about Gabe.”

Paul groaned, everything he had been told about triggers rushing back to him. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

“Like I said, I won’t tell you it’s okay, but I forgive you,” Sally said. “I believe you’re a good man.”

It was a simple compliment, but Paul took it as the high praise it was intended as. “Thank you.”

“Percy will be all right,” Sally said, taking a deep breath. “He knows you aren’t like Gabe. He’s just been though a lot, losing me.”

“Losing you?” Paul asked before he could stop himself.

Sally took another deep breath and then looked Paul in the eye. “Remember the conversation we had on our first date?”

Paul did. It had been the first time they had gone out together and the evening had been going well. After dinner they had come back to Sally’s apartment and she had sat him down to explain some of the details of her and Percy’s life. It had sounded a little crazy to Paul but Sally was one of the most grounded people he knew and he had believed her.

Now, she told him a few more details: how she had been lost to the Underworld and Percy had journeyed to rescue her and find a lightning bolt.

“I returned,” Sally concluded, “but Percy will find it hard to trust you for a while.”

“What about you?” Paul asked. “I want this relationship to continue,” he confessed, “but I won’t keep going if you ask me to stop.”

Sally smiled softly. “Everything I told you about happened a while ago. I’ll always remember it, but it’s time for me to move on.” She held out her hand. “I don’t want this to stop any more than you do.”


End file.
